


Farewell Song

by AlbaAdler



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-05-09
Packaged: 2018-01-21 13:46:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1552595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlbaAdler/pseuds/AlbaAdler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Perhaps when he was dead drunk it would be funny that two of the greatest champions of the North had a destiny so unworthy of songs and legends: one with his ass frozen to the marrow and other, if the gods were good, married to a man who should be limited to humiliate her and despise her in private.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tyrion

**Author's Note:**

> As everybody knows, the characters don’t belong to me.  
> This is supposed to be three chapters. If you like this let me know and I’ll upload the next one. If you don’t like, then do nothing and I promise I’ll do the same =)  
> As you know, English is not mi first language, so this must to have a lot of mistakes. Any help you can give will be appreciated.

# Tyrion

 

Tyrion had to stand on his toes to have a better sight of what was going on at the practice yard. Of course, he didn’t need so much effort to understand whom were the only two persons standing there, at the latest daylight. Both of them were blond, tall and strong enough to continue dancing sword in hand the whole night.

He watched them for a long time; he was far enough to hear what they said, but not so much to not be able to read their faces.

When they finish their training and even with their cheeks red for the exercise, both exchanged some words, smiling as if just for a moment they had forgotten that it was that probably their last chance to be together.

Next morning Brienne would be heading to Evenfall to remain by her very ill father’s side, and carry to term the reconstruction of Tarth that Lord Selwyn’s deteriorating health had left unfinished.

For many moons now, the possibility of building a watchtower beyond the wall to avoid the few casualties the night watch still was suffering by the remaining white walkers had been contemplated. The strong climate, add to the others dangers made of that a suicidal mission that had never been taken seriously. However, that same afternoon, the Queen had requested Tyrion’s presence to inform him that his brother, ser Jaime Lannister, had offered himself as volunteer to assume that mission with a group of dead sentenced whom would prefer risk their chances at The Wall that face the certainty of death by hanging. All he had asked in return was to keep the secret until the Lady Brienne has gone.

In essence, Jaime was still the same idiot romantic, willing to the stupidest things in the name of love. At least now —Tyrion thought—, his sacrifice had a much more altruistic purpose.

As if suddenly they were aware of their imminent separation their faces darkened and instinctively closed the distance until they were just one step away.

Jaime was who spoke first, but avoiding carefully to looking at her in the eye, Brienne nodded a few times trying to smile. When was her turn to speak she was brief. She seemed to suffer with each word said. There was a moment when she used as excuse a sound at her back to whip a couple of tears away.

At the end they gazed each other at the eyes, just for a fleeting moment. Jaime shyly approached to her, almost fearfully brushed her lips. It was a gesture more fitting for a six years old boy that for an adult, so sweet and innocent that not even deserved to be called a kiss. Then, a little more confident, he kissed her scarred cheek before walked away slowly. Finally, he took her hand and kissed it gently.

It was obvious even from afar that she was trembling when Jaime bowed at her as a final courtesy.  A single word left The Maid of Tarth’s mouth before she turned and walked away.

Tyrion need not be a genius to understand how bitter and absolute that word was: goodbye.

Jaime Lannister stood still, staring absently at the path she just disappeared by. He was left only with a white cloak as company and a stump to testify the honor his name had finally gained.

Tyrion was tired and thought go to his chamber. He needed a drink to forget the spectacle he had just witnessed and that wasn’t of his concern. He needed a drink to remember that even when he had forgiven Jaime he resent him because Tyshas’ memory had poisoned him for so many years now. He needed a drink to forget that there are no way to compare what Tysha was in his life —after knowing her for only a few days—, to all what Brienne represented in Jaime’s life. He needed a drink to remember how betrayed he had felt when his brother confessed his part on his father’s plot. He also needed a drink to forget that during his childhood he had known love and tenderness thanks to Jaime.

 For years now he had dreamed with the satisfaction of seeing Jaime as broken and empty as he had felt by Tisha. Now that gods had finally granted him his wish, he couldn’t find any happiness at the picture of a defeated and conquered Lyon of Lannister.

Maybe when he’ll be all drunk the feeling would be more akin to what he had imagined. Perhaps then he’d enjoyed what easily could be the last time he saw his brother alive.

Perhaps when he was dead drunk it would be funny that two of the greatest champions of the North had a destiny so unworthy of songs and legends: one with his ass frozen to the marrow and other, if the gods were good, married to a man who should be limited to humiliate her and despise her in private.

He walked fast-paced towards his Tower; he needed too many drinks and he was, after all, a very small man.


	2. Jaime

# Jaime

Despite perfectly understanding the game of thrones, Jaime had never enjoyed being part of it. Even less when he played his role as a simple ornament piece. He didn’t fool himself, if he was alive and in an apparently privileged position was due to political convenience.

He had never believed that the young Queen Targaryen had forgiven him the death of his father. Not even after confirming the reasons he had to do it. However, the seven kingdoms clamoring to the heroes of the North that protected them from the white walkers menace and, acting as a skilled and visionary ruler, Daenerys had managed to keep close to her all those who could.

Jaime had made what he knew in the best possible way and, without knowing how, that had been enough to make people forget his history as Kingslayer, people even forgot he was a Lannister and they worshiped him almost as much as the rest of the survivors of the North.

It wasn’t enough to win the Queen’s confidence, but that didn’t keep him awake. He had a place in the Royal Guard, but he wasn’t anymore the Lord Commander. He had some gold, but not Casterly Rock. He had never considered it as his, so he didn’t lose any other thing that the hope that the fact that not disputed it to Tyrion would gain him his pardon.

He had a brother who let him clear his grudge with cold and distant sentences spoke to him when courtesy demanded it. He had two children who were better far away from him, where the stigma of being bastards couldn’t reach them. He had the bitter memory of a dead sister, a lover who had never deserved so many years of his devotion.

And also, as his only treasure, he had a woman who, against all odds, had learned to love, a woman who professed him a blind faith, and looked with admiration and proud at the man he had become. Someone whose loyalty and dignity were beyond any song...  A woman he was about to lose.

It was a mockery, a perfect irony that the oath he did the moment he realized he was in love with the ugly, naïve and foolish wench, was the one putting the impossible seal to their relationship.

He remembered the battle against the walkers as if just happened this very morning and not more than two years ago. They had men preparing a trap with valyrian fire.  Perhaps he had been too reckless leading the forefront group that protected them; maybe they had a pretty stupid pyromancer, or it was an unfortunate combination of both. The explosion had thrown him a couple of bodies away with a spear crossed at his belly.

He couldn’t remember having lost consciousness after the impact; he was perfectly aware and lucid when he saw the spear’s tip that was sticking out of his stomach. He rolled over his back and heard a crack, the spear’s tip stood out even more. Judging by the blood he was losing, he didn’t have so much time left. The pain wasn’t strong, perhaps because near the Wall the only thing that could be felt with intensity was cold. He glazed the leaden gray sky above him, and for the first time since his childhood he felt a strong desire to pray. He did not plead for saving his life nor his sins were forgiven, he begged with all his soul the Gods granted him the favor of seeing the wench for once last time.

“Jaime!” The sound of her voice come from so far away that when he opened his eyes he could not believe she was really there, holding his face between her hands.

“The gods are good...” He whispered smiling at her.

“I'll get the maester,” she said through her breathy voice.

“No! Just stay here, please... the gods are good...” He recalled reached for her hand and not let her go.

“You need help.” She insisted, stubbornly.

Jaime smiled; she was stubborn as a mule. Stubborn as always. He looked at the pool of blood beside him.

“No longer. Besides... spear came for the back... probably they’ll think I was trying to flee.” Added, not being able to avoid the final joke.

“Nobody who knows you could ever believe that foolishness,” roared Brienne, full of fury.

And, despite the pain, he was forced to laugh. With one last effort he raised his hand to caress the scar on her cheek. It surprised him to find a tear in it. The maid of Tarth never cried. Then he looked at her beautiful blue eyes. So blue that seemed to be melt into tears. Tears for him.

“I swear, wench, if I make it... I‘ll dedicate my entire life to be as honorable as you think I already am.”

And that was what he did.

Actually, the gods were good. Not only allowed him to survive the Wall and the Targaryen reign, they also gave him a two years truce in Brienne’s company. But that could not last forever and, when the raven announcing the illness of Lord Selwyn arrived, Jaime knew for sure that the truce had come to an end.

Then he found himself wishing to return to the North, since in that world of ice and snow laid his warmest and happiest memories. Because in that place he had spend whole nights hugging Brienne and nobody cared about it, for the only thing that mattered in the icy North was defending The Wall and surviving.

The Wall seemed to be the perfect place for those who had lost it all or had nothing at all. The only things remained to him was an empty hand, an empty bed and a sword with no reason to be used.

As an ultimate act of selfishness and before he let Brienne go forever, he allowed himself to kiss her for the first and last time.


	3. Brienne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is all.  
> Thank you so much for reading in spite of all the mistakes.  
> Did you like it? Please let me know!

Brienne  


  
Long time ago Jaime had confessed her the reason his brother had to grudge him. Perhaps of all his mistakes, it was that the only he had committed without the least intention of hurt, after all, he wasn't more than a young fool obeying the instructions of an authoritarian father. After numerous attempts looking for reconciliation, Jaime gave up. He accepted the wishes of his brother and kept a distance.  
Still, whenever the two brothers crossed paths in a hallway and greeted, as perfect strangers would do, Brienne only had to look at his green eyes to find a shade of sadness, which he tried to disguise right away with a quick joke.

  
Both, she and Jaime, had kept a distance from the others; he joked and laughed with all people, having closeness with nobody. She preferred, as always, to isolate. Both trusted only on each other. They _only_ had each other. And now she was going to leave him and his heart ached knowing that they hardly would meet again.  
Nobody could understand the depth of his relationship with Jaime, so nobody could understand how painful that separation was. She was his friend, the best and the most beloved. He didn't have to tell her so with words. Whenever they communicated with just a glance, shared a secret or instinctively seek and found each other in the midst of a crowd, she understood it.

  
She also knew she loved him.  She had loved him for so long that during all those cold nights in the North the feeling had kept her warm, and his arms around her waist provided her all the courage she required. For the first time in her life he made her feel needed, cherished and respected. And that was almost as good as being in love and has that love returned.

  
 _Almost._

  
She owed him something more than a simple farewell and she prayed the gods granted her wisdom in order to returned to him at least a bit of everything that he had given to her.

The same morning of his departure, Brienne requested audience with the Hand of the Queen. Her relationship with Tyrion Lannister at Court it had been limited to a few polite phrases, but that left clear that he wanted to keep her away, so far away as his own brother was.

“Please, Lady Brienne, take a seat.” Tyrion Lannister told her with courtesy, pointing to an elegantly carved chair before his desk. She made a curtsy as elegant as her nerves allowed her, and occupied the designated chair.

“I understand you'll leave us today. You will be missed.”

Brienne was sure she would be as missed as a stain on the wall, as a grotesque thing that, for a start, never should be part of the scene. However, she just nodded gently.

“I’m about to leave, but before I need to deal with a matter... _unofficial_ with you, if you let me.”

Tyrion arched his eyebrows with distrust. Brienne wished to find something of the warmth of Jaime’s eyes in the glance of his brother, but she only met with coldness.

“Unofficial.” Repeated the little man very slowly, watching her closely with his unmatched eyes. “I listen, my lady.”

Foolishly, she felt sick, as when expected to Connigton, her former betroth.  This time, at least, she didn’t’ bit her tongue; and after a deep breath, she stood up, and staring the inkstand on the desk, she said the brief speech that had been rehearsed for days now:

“I know that you surely will consider my words as an insolence, but on behalf of the friendship that ties me to your brother, I beg you...”

Tyrion raised even more his eyebrows, which made the mutilation of his nose looked more evident. But Brienne had faced worst things and she was not going to let him intimidated her so easily. She had his fists clenched so tight that she suspected the nails had already perforated her flesh. Nevertheless, she continued.  “I beg you to reconsider the relationship with your brother. He deeply regrets what happened...”

”He told you.” It wasn't a question.

Tyrion stood up and went to the window. After a prolonged silence Brienne ventured to follow him.  “He misses you. I'm sure he deserves a second chance...”

“Nobody has had so many second chances as him,” said he, after emitting a nasal laugh.

“In spite of everything he has done, he is a good man,” said Brienne, so sure of that truth as she was of what screamed the mirror when she looked at it.

Tyrion looked at her eyes, she struggled not to blink. She needed to convince him.

“You made him a good man.” He softened his tone and Brienne was able to find some warmth in his eyes.

“He always has been. He is like you. Good people with bad influences, who took bad decisions and made mistakes. By the way Jaime speaks of you, I also know you’re a fair man. I appeal to that justice, I appeal to all your childhood memories. Who would be better than a brother to replace a lost friend? That way perhaps, he doesn’t even feel my absence.” She whispered the last sentence trying hard to hide her pain.

She didn’t have the sense to analyze the scrutiny glance he directed to her. She bowed to him, trying to regain his composure and wishing that her words had reached some tender spot or a dear memory and touched him. “I wish you a long and prosperous life, my Lord.”

Before she could be betrayed by her emotions she left quickly. Despite what the protocol dictated, she ran through the long hallways, corridors and stairs, and the next time she was aware of herself she was already riding towards the ship that would take her to Tarth; although strangely instead of feeling she was approaching home, with each new step her heart felt increasingly away from it.

**

The wind had blown hard the last two days. But despite the sails of the ship were so tense that seemed on the verge of break they didn’t move fast enough. She had been so long away from the sea on her island, that the intense blue of the water was almost a strange to her.

She should have returned to home a long time ago… at the end of the war. Perhaps she never should have been gone actually. Maybe if she had stayed in Tarth, she never would have had to realize that the broken heart of a woman was much more painful that the broken heart of a girl.

They had just passed the Channel of Tarth. The ship had to stop to let merchandises in a port of the continent and the stop was prolonging longer than expected. If the wind was still favorable to them and they sailed right away, they could reach the Evenfall’s coast next day. The next afternoon she could be embracing her father; she could lay the head on his knees and feel his caresses in the hair. Those small things always made her feel better and she hoped that still her father’s love had the power to give her comfort and serve her as a palliative.

“My lady,” told the captain of the ship after an exaggerated reverence. “I apologize for the delay; but arriving at the port we received orders from her Grace to expect one of his envoys to Tarth. Fortunately said gentleman is already on board, and we're ready to sail.”

“Thank you, Captain. I would like reaching Tarth as soon as possible.”

The man, skinny and small but owner of a thunderous voice, make another bow and left her alone in the tiny dining room of the ship, staring a glass before her and oblivious to everything else.

”Are you in such a hurry to go away, wench?

The voice came for somewhere behind her and it was so oddly familiar that she cannot conceal his shock and stood up taking her hand to her rushed heart. The well known burst of laughter that followed left her legs so weak that she almost fell out.  Was she dreaming?

“So it will be that way, wench?” She didn’t dare to turn around, but heard the footsteps approaching. “You come back to your island and suddenly you become a fearful maiden who is scared by a mouse?”

“You're not a mouse,” she barked at him, not at all convinced of not being dreaming.

“I am a lion, but you had never before felt intimidated by my roars.” The man smiled presumptuous, stood still before her.

Brienne rolled the eyes and hit him hard on the arm. Perhaps only to verify that he was real, that he was there.

“What are you doing here? Are you the queen’s envoy? Did she give you a mission to fulfill in Tarth?” The idea made her so happy that before she realized she found herself squeezing the sleeve of the Jaime’s modest jacket.

“Easy, wench.” He snarled; releasing his sleeve with pretended dislike. “I have wore down my ass on horseback to reach your ship and for only welcome you importunate me with questions!” He took a seat by her side, still snarling. “I am the reason for the delay of your ship, but no; I have no mission. In fact, there will be no more missions for me. The morning after your departure the Queen and her Hand required my presence.”

He looked among his clothes and pulled out a letter that offered to her. It had the royal seal and when it began to read, Brienne could recognize the writing of Tyrion. With great formality they informed to him that the Council had decided the Royal Guard onwards should be formed only by men whose age, health and training qualify them to safeguard her Grace with efficiency, whereby Jaime Lannister was dismissed of his position within the Guard, without loss to the honors that his name deserve in the White Book, and counting forever with the gratitude of the Kingdom for his services.

“I am not sure if I had only been called crippled, or also old and useless,” he said, while Brienne was still reading the last words.

“You're not...”

“Anyway,” he interrupted her abruptly, “they offered me celebrate a feast in my honor or send a raven so that your boat will wait for me... And those damn new cooks are so bad... so here I am.”

He took a green apple and bit it as if all the matter had no greater importance than the dinner menu. “I spoke with my brother before leaving.” His face became suddenly serious. “He forgave me,” his eyes glowed with a childlike pride.

Brienne left the letter on the table and took his right arm. Jaime’s smile intensified.

“When I knew you were leaving I made a request to our beloved Queen that she generously granted me. Tyrion told me that you also had ask for something to him, but that we both were too stupid to ask for what we really wanted.”

Brienne blushed. She wasn't sure how much Tyrion had told him or how would take Jaime her interference in family affairs of the Lannisters. She stopped the pair of questions she wanted to ask, believed more suitable a change of topic.

“We have had a good journey,” said she with a spontaneous tone.

Jaime nodded distracted. “I don't know exactly what you said to Tyrion, but you surely won his heart, I knew he escorted you to the ship.”

Brienne had been as surprised as everyone else when the Hand himself volunteered to lead the delegation that escorted her. He went all the way to her side, silent as a tomb, absorbed in what should be major issues, but he kissed his hand with gallantry before she boarded the ship. It was a sad help to have Tyrion there when she noticed Jaime’s absence.

“I thought you also would go to say goodbye.” She tried to disguise the reproach.

“We had already said goodbye the day before,” he said cutting.

“I would have liked was you who escort me.” She didn't know why suddenly it bothered her so much that the farewell would have not been as difficult for him as it had been for her.

“It would have been too painful,” he said. Trying not to look at her, he served a glass of water and began to drink it very slowly.

“I’m not a child.”

He shook his head and smiled sadly. ”Painful for me. Perhaps I would have not the courage to let you go and I would have taken you with me to travel as the old days. Wouldn't have you like that too? To hell with honor and duty and just ride without direction, without a mission, just you and me...” and he fixed his glance in a tiny piece of heaven that showed through the window.

In all the years she has knowing him, Brienne had seen almost all his facets: cynicism, pride, bravery, tiredness, weariness, generosity, and kindness. But she never saw him happy. For the first time, there, standing at her side, without the white cloak or any armor, he seemed happy. And she found herself desperate to know why the possibility of going with her on another adventure made him so happy. She needed to know why, when he was finally free, his first instinct was follow her to a small island whose main attraction was the color of its waters.

“Why?”

Jaime laughed and looked at her with something akin to tenderness.

“Tyrion was also right on that. You're too blind or an idiot to believe I am a good man and at the same time don’t realize that I...” he left the bitten apple at the table and approached to Brienne as if he was struggling to remember the word he wanted to say. “How much I…”

He barely had time to release an exasperated blow before capture her waist with his right arm and take his neck with the left to near their faces.

It was not until he began to kiss her tenderly first, and then with hunger and anxiety long time contained that Brienne understood the word that remained unsaid.

“And so do I... so much”. She whispered to his ear before approaching his lips again, trying to recover all the time they had lost.


End file.
